


epilogues

by lnmiose



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Reunited childhood friends, Vampire lelouch, alternate title: suzaku contemplates death and morality for 4k words, vampire hunter suzaku
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29563539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lnmiose/pseuds/lnmiose
Summary: Suzaku Kururugi had long since grown used to the smell of death on his hands.
Relationships: Kururugi Suzaku/Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	epilogues

**Author's Note:**

> i've always wanted to write a vampire au fic and i don't know why it's taken me so long, lelouch just lends himself perfectly to being written as one and everything else followed suit
> 
> projecting my personal maslov's hierarchy of needs listing 'vampire spouse' above 'therapy' onto suzaku here. enjoy!

Suzaku Kururugi had long since grown used to the smell of death on his hands.

One could argue that the corpses he’d littered his path with had already been dead. Vampires were monsters after all, brought to life by something unspeakably evil and arcane. Their existence was unnatural, so to snuff out such an existence was a mercy. It was a restoration of balance to the world.

Once upon a time, Suzaku had allowed himself to believe in such ideas. Narratives that made his task easier to digest, more comfortable to live with.

He’d let go of such whimsical fantasies of justice a long time ago.

Rather than a knight, he saw himself as a grim reaper. Both metaphorical ideas for a vampire hunter, of course, but ones that changed the very nature of his work. He still considered what he did important. He valued the lives he retroactively saved - vampires if left alone would kill to live, after all. However, he wondered if his existence was truly any different.

Night to night, he travelled aimlessly between forest and towns, chasing down rumours of bloodsuckers and ghouls. An aimless wanderer, merely motivated by his next kill. He’d seen vampires die by his own bloodied hand too many times to feel justified in distinguishing the difference. Just as a vampire wanders towards their next kill, Suzaku would follow for his own taste of blood.

He found no joy in it. It was methodical, necessary. A sin for him to bear all the same.

And that was how he found himself at this secluded village, following the fearful whispers of deaths up on the hill. When locals took note of his arrival, that of a vampire hunter, they pleaded with him, some in exalted joy. The evil that plagued them would be defeated! 

Such praise left a sour feeling in Suzaku’s mouth, but he was used to it. He shouldered it.

Here, the rumours were much like he was used to. A lonely figure in white that ghosted the area, claiming the lives of unwitting travellers, and the slim yet imposing presence of a young man, whose deep violet eyes could command the price of your soul.

Such stories were often exaggerated, but such was the fear of vampires. It was Suzaku’s duty to put these fears to rest. It was all he could do to leave the hands of others unstained. 

And so, as the sun set behind the encircling hills of the forest, his hour arrived. It was routine, a mechanical shift into the mind of a hunter. A promise to himself that he would be the last to visit death upon this landscape, or whichever new place he was brought to. He was an equaliser. 

However, hunting for vampires was not as simple as charging in, stakes brandished. Tonight, he would scout the area. If he was lucky, he might make quick work of uncovering where the vampires here rested. The element of surprise was a highly coveted weapon, and he intended to be the one with it in his arsenal. 

The forest he found himself searching was typically imposing, one where you could easily imagine evil lurking within its depths. With each step, the towering black trunks looked the same, identical, like rows of teeth swallowing anyone who dared to enter deep into its belly. A perfect hiding place, Suzaku knew. However, he also suspected it might make his task easier. 

Anyone, even a vampire, would want an identifiable place to rest in a place such as this. An abandoned structure, a clearing between the trees, anything that stood out as a landmark in this maze might help lead the way. 

Vampires may not be human, but they were also not the savage animals that many folk believed. Rarely would you find one content to crawl in the dirt for shelter. As a human would want a bed to rest, a vampire would seek a private safe haven. Lodgings, if you would. 

And, after hours of a dimly candlelit search, with the morning in its early hours, Suzaku found what he felt he was looking for. 

It appeared to be the dilapidated ruins of what was once perhaps a chapel. A sacrilegious place for vampires to rest, but to some that irony felt fitting. The age in the stone walls was clear to see, even from a distance - broken and crumbling at the seams, barely holding together. Around the chapel there appeared to be graves, but neglect and the elements had made what once marked cherished resting places to be unidentifiable. Slabs of rock were left jutting up out of the earth. 

Suzaku dared to let a breath out quietly, not yet moving from his position, crouched at the boundaries of this once holy place. 

This had to be it. 

It was almost too convenient. 

His hands grazing the wooden stakes at his belt, he began to edge around the perimeter. He would not enter this chapel yet, not today, but he at least had to confirm his suspicions. Any sign of the afterlife would do. Then, as he rounded the chapel’s corner, ever so slowly, he stilled as if frozen into place.

He could see the back of a girl, sat at the edge of the cemetery, seeming to have casually marked out an old tomb as a bench for rest. Her long green hair trailed almost down to the floor, and her outfit of all white was set aglow by the light of the moon that creeped through the high tree branches.

The figure in white. The ghost that brought death. He had found her.

_Shit._

He hadn’t actually intended to encounter either of the rumoured vampires today, and with one of them sat… at a distance, but so _close_ , he could feel his element of surprise slipping away like sand between his fingers. 

Then, as if on cue, the white figure turned, and a pair of yellow eyes surveyed around about where he was standing. They were cold, impassive. Bewitching. 

Suzaku’s grip on his stake was white-knuckled as he maintained his crouched position. While it was unlikely, it was still possible that he had not been spotted. He was hanging onto that, clutching the grains of sand that remained in his hands. He could hold his own in a fight without question, but—

Then, as he blinked, mid thought, the figure in white was gone. He remained fixed in place, bracing himself for an attack.

...

It did not come.

But he had definitely been seen.

Quickly turning on his heel, he headed back in the direction of the village, his thoughts dizzy. Tomorrow, he would have to reevaluate.

-

And tomorrow, Suzaku concluded that maybe vampire hunting sometimes _was_ as simple as charging in, stakes brandished. More or less, anyway. 

He did not have much more of a choice. The vampire that saw him would be stupid not to be suspicious of a lone human stalking the edge of their domain, and he refused to allow them the chance of gaining an upperhand. 

So, as the following night encroached, with the blessings and crosses the villagers insisted on bestowing on him pocketed and set aside, he went out into the forest’s maze once again. 

Tonight, he would visit death, or have death visit him. 

So be it. 

There was a chill in the air, a wind, unlike the stillness of the night before, clawing icy fingers into his bones. He gritted his teeth, meeting the challenge, and trudged forward as the black trunks welcomed him a second time. 

He cupped his candlelight protectively as the wind caused it to flicker. Guarding the small flame, he was reminded of early hunts - when he believed in the utter justice of his ‘work’, when his heart would leap about in fear like the tiny fire that danced before him. 

It was often that he wished such excitement would stir his heart again. 

Then, as a voice from the wind reverberated in his ears, it almost did. 

_“So it’s true then, is it? You’ve come to slay me.”_

Suzaku stopped in his tracks.

The tone of that voice, its cadence. There was something breathtakingly familiar about it, in a way he did not even dare to fathom. He should be reaching for his stakes, his sword, anything, but… 

The forest was still.

**_“Suzaku!”_ **

All at once, an impossible force barrelled at him, knocking him to the leaf-littered floor. Utterly dazed, he could hardly begin to comprehend the face that loomed at him, twisting familiar features into a snarl.

Was this hallucinatory? It had to be. Yet, despite himself, his experience, the cold death in his heart, he could not stop himself breathlessly uttering the name that reached his lips.

“Lelouch…” 

The face of his best friend, his best friend that was _dead,_ seemed to then falter. All at once, Suzaku’s senses returned to him. 

Taking this opportunity of hesitation, Suzaku reached for his sword. The vampire, seeming to come to his own senses, jumped back at the action, something akin to a hiss escaping the monster’s lips. 

Staggering to his feet, sword gripped in gloved hands as if it would ground him, Suzaku glared at… 

at..? 

“Who _are_ you!?” He was not surprised at the rage in his own voice. He wanted to scream at the heavens and tear them asunder for this affront, for this blasphemy, this, this— “How? How are you wearing _his_ face!?” 

The face that this vampire dared to wear was almost unreadable, calculating, before its mouth settled into a smirk. An unsteady smirk. 

“Suzaku, you insult me. I’ve crawled my way up from the depths of hell, and this is the welcome I get?” 

The words were chilling, the familiarity in its voice left something icier within him than the wind could ever hope to match. 

“You… you claim to be Lelouch. Lelouch died, I know he died.” Suzaku’s words overspilled. “I… His father, his father, he…” 

“ _Wanted_ me rid of, yes.” The vampire, still unreadable. “However, the cruel twist of fate had other plans.” 

Suzaku could swear he was falling. His head reeled. 

Lelouch. 

His best friend, Lelouch. 

They had been separated years ago, driven apart by the wants of their respective families. Suzaku, to take up the sword against the threat of vampires. Lelouch, to go into hiding, protected from the threat by the privilege of his lineage. Or, at least so it was planned. Lelouch challenged his father’s decision, challenged the way in which Charles shielded the nobility while leaving those defenseless to die.

But, it wasn’t long before Lelouch was declared dead himself. In truth, he had gone missing, but it wasn’t difficult to imagine the fate of someone presumably lost to the hands of vampires. A tragic loss, a victim of his own stubbornness, that was the story told. 

Suzaku hadn’t been sure what to believe, but now… 

“Well, Suzaku Kururugi, infamous slayer of vampires, what are you waiting for?” The vampire… no, Lelouch’s voice sounded again. Such a taunt should be mocking, but there was something else hidden within it. “Aren’t you here to purge me? Remove the unnatural affront my existence is on this world? You see what I am, don’t you?” 

…

Suzaku paused, taking in the sight of his former friend, the hunger that shone in those magnetic violet eyes. 

He raised his sword, slowly.

“How many lives have you taken, Lelouch?”

The smirk was gone now. 

“What do you think?” 

Suzaku stepped closer, sword still extended. Lelouch held his ground… no, he didn’t, he just simply didn’t move, not his body nor his gaze. 

His eyes had always been so telling. 

“... I’m sure you have taken many, that you are a murderer, Lelouch. However, there is something that doesn’t make sense.” His voice sounded harsh, harsher than he intended, but he continued. He needed answers. “There is a village of vulnerable people so close by, practically laid out on a plate before you. Why, then, do you look so starved?” 

If Lelouch faltered, it was quickly masked beneath the harshness of his own gaze. There was no response, however. 

“You try not to take the lives of those you deem deserving to keep them, don’t you?” 

It was a question, but Suzaku had posed it like it was fact. He had seen many vampires in his time, and from the way Lelouch trembled, from the way his eyes looked him over with an uncontrolled glee and longing, he knew this was a vampire who had not fed. 

He also knew Lelouch. The Lelouch that lived by his own code of justice. The Lelouch that would never stoop to break it if it was within his power.

Somehow, this seemed so like him. 

“... And what does that matter?” Lelouch finally spoke, maintaining defiance, though there was a tiredness to him ever so suddenly. “I am still, as you said, a murderer. I take lives in order to sustain my own. It is a gruesome existence, one of borrowed and sullied time. If you are here, then it must finally be my reckoning.” 

Suzaku regarded him slowly, unsure of what was showing on his own face. 

What Lelouch said, the words he’d used to indict himself...

What difference really was there between the two of them? 

“... If you are a murderer, then so am I, Lelouch.” He lowered his sword. “Frankly, I believe it should be your reckoning that is upon me.” 

Lelouch just stared, and stared, before a bitter laugh escaped him. There was hardly any humour in it. 

“If you do not have the stomach to kill me, you should go. I have no place interfering in your own crusade of justice.” 

Then, Lelouch’s back turned, and Suzaku felt his heart stop.

That couldn’t be it.

That wouldn’t be it! 

“You fucking— Lelouch, wait!”

Desperate, he reached out and gripped his long lost friend’s shoulder, sword abandoned. He knew the mere clutch of his hand would not be enough to stop a vampire from leaving, but he willed his touch to be enough. 

Miraculously, Lelouch stilled. 

And for a moment, still they both stayed. Suzaku’s breath felt short, laboured, as he grasped at the words he could say, the accusations he could hurl, the pathetic ways in which he could plead. 

Then, Suzaku felt the tremor he’s seen before in the shoulder he’d latched his hand onto. It seemed stifled, badly hidden, but it was there. 

He then made his mind up.

“If… _you_ … do not have the stomach to stay,” Bitterness still leaked into his words. “Then at the very least feed.” 

Finally, this warranted an unmasked reaction. Lelouch turned to meet his eyes again, and they were an open book - the shock, the lack of comprehension, the _hunger_. 

“You can’t mean…”

“Yes, I do mean.” If there was one thing he was Lelouch’s match for, it was in stubbornness, and Suzaku knew his will could outlast that of a hungry vampire. “If you won’t feed while you’re staying near this village, then feed on me. Here. Now.” 

The candidness of the offer seemed to make Lelouch shudder, or at least Suzaku guessed that’s what it was. A shaky hand, gloved in black, raised itself to Suzaku’s arm as if unwillingly. Despite not touching bare skin, Suzaku felt the cold that permeated through the touch.

It was a touch from beyond the grave in every sense. 

“... Why.” 

This weakness was uncharacteristic, and for some reason Suzaku found it annoyed him. His situation must have been more desperate than he’d thought. Hardly comprehending his own words, his own thoughts or logic, he voiced the impatience. 

“You can ask why after. For now, I can hardly stand you in this state.” 

Letting go of Lelouch’s shoulder, but letting the hand on his own arm remain, (and god, he wished the imprint of it would remain forever), he brought his hands up to the collar of his coat. He could practically feel Lelouch’s gaze burning on him, starving, as he undid buttons and exposed the flesh of his neck. 

For most vampires so starved, this would be enough to lunge. Lelouch, however, exhibited an unbelievable level of self control.

“But Suzaku, I...” The protest was hardly a whisper. Suzaku felt breath on his skin, and realised that the space between them had been closing all this time. “Never to you…” 

Suzaku met the hungry eyes with his own steely, unforgiving gaze. He ignored the tug at his heart, the aching tug he’d shut himself off to for so long. 

“Think of it as a parting gift, if you must.” He willed his own voice to be steady, hating to refer to them as parting, hating that if Lelouch wanted to leave again, to flee, he couldn’t stop him. 

But finally, Lelouch’s resolve waned to nothing.

All at once, he felt the sharpness of fangs pierce his flesh, hot pain catching his veins alight. Succumbing to a vampire’s attack felt strangely natural, like a fate that had been biding its time for too long, but… no, these were _Lelouch’s_ fangs. Lelouch. As if coupled with that realisation, Suzaku felt arms wrap tightly around him, holding him in place, somehow protective. And Lelouch was at his neck, hot tongue lapping at blood and flesh, and all Suzaku could do was collapse into it.

And collapse he did. Knees buckling, he found himself not dropping but gently lowering to the floor in Lelouch’s arms. Despite himself, or perhaps not, Suzaku stretched his neck backwards, exposing himself more, giving Lelouch’s hungry mouth free reign of his collarbone. Fangs grazed his skin as they travelled ever so slightly lower down his neck, sending shudders down his spine. Warmth burned within him as he sat at the mercy of Lelouch’s hunger. They were so close, so _close,_ and so long had he been denied this closeness. 

He wanted more of it. He didn’t want it to end.

...

It perhaps, then, took him too long to realise that Lelouch’s mouth was no longer lapping at his neck, but instead that his face was buried there. A feast turned to an embrace. Suzaku wondered, faintly, about the soreness of his neck, but… actually, he clung onto that. He wanted to cling to any trace that Lelouch would leave. Anything he could keep, hold onto, to prove that this night was real. That in some sick way, Lelouch was _alive._

He was alive. Lelouch was alive, and wanted to leave him behind. 

It was enough to nearly wrack his body with a sob. 

“Without you… my life has been so unexpectedly lonely.” 

The words left Suzaku without warning. He was surprised at the swiftness with which Lelouch responded, face turning ever so slightly to speak away from his neck.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” While it was a reprimand, there was no bite to his words. “Surely, in all this time, you’ve met others you could hold onto like this.”

Suzaku felt unable to give voice to his answer. Instead, he drew Lelouch in closer, burying his own face into the other. He hoped this action would speak for the words he kept unsaid.

Perhaps there was someone, some people, briefly, once. It had never lasted. He had never quite crossed the gaping rift that had separated him from other people. Never for long. Never in time.

It was unfair that this could be another of those times, that it could end too soon, and Suzaku was nearly ready to shout at Lelouch about it again when there finally came the of, 

“... I suppose I haven’t, either.”

Which, somehow, was for a moment all he needed to hear.

And it felt so natural, to be entangled like this. Like the missing pieces of a jigsaw finally slotting together. A shiver ran down Suzaku’s spine as a cold, tender hand ran along it - and it was a good shiver, a welcome shiver, as if life was being breathed back into his bones.

He raised a hand to cup Lelouch’s dead, living, cold face, lifting it gently away from his shoulder, overcome with a sudden desire to just… look. 

To take in the face of this dead man walking.

Whenever Suzaku looked in a mirror, he could see how the world had aged him. In the harsh set of his jar, in the weary bags that left shadows beneath his eyes, the weight of his guilt in living was clear.

None of this was present in Lelouch’s deceptively young features - all smooth skin, cheekbones and soft lips. His inky black hair framed it perfectly, the moonlight casting a silvery glow upon its stray strands. 

Most striking, now, were his eyes. His eyes. He could see where the rumours had come from with an obvious ease. While violet before, they now glowed with a red light, with satisfaction, with Suzaku’s blood. Suzaku’s blood that had splattered Lelouch’s lips, his fangs, his stupid ruffled shirt. 

It looked like a work of art.

God, it was so unfair. 

And Suzaku would feel ridiculous if Lelouch wasn’t staring right back. 

“You look tired.” Is all that left Lelouch’s mouth, finally.

“Thanks.” 

Suzaku had intended his response to be flat, but he could hardly keep it together as Lelouch ran his thumb along his cheek. The gentlest of touches.

In fact, actually, he couldn’t keep it together. 

“Lelouch.” His voice was unwavering, almost angry. “After this, you can’t just leave.”

Now, Lelouch finally looked away. Hiding those windows to his soul, refusing to let Suzaku see whatever guilt it was that wracked his eyes. _The coward._

“... I do not belong with you, with the living. It’s a boundary I cannot cross.” 

Was that really it? Was that the excuse? Suzaku could almost laugh.

Then he realised that he _was_ laughing. A harsh, bitter sound, and Lelouch was now at least looking at him, beautiful eyes confused.

“You think I’m still alive?” Suzaku spoke through laughter, his voice low. “Whatever life was in me died long ago. If you think I have anything to return to, anything you can take from me, you’re wrong.” 

Lelouch cocked an eyebrow at him. He paused, but it was only for a moment.

“Ok, now you _are_ being dramatic. You’re starting to sound like me, but worse. That’s not a good sign.” 

And at this, Suzaku gaped. Did he think he was being funny? Clearly he did, because Lelouch then laughed himself, but this time it was warm. It was genuine, with a flash of fangs. 

Somehow, it almost made being the butt of whatever inside joke the stupid vampire had with himself worth it.

Almost.

“I’m serious, Lelouch. I…” What could he say? What would convince him to stay? He felt as if a pocket watch was counting him down, hands ticking, before the man he loved would vanish into nothing again forever. “I don’t want things left unsaid, I don’t want _secrets._ At least, just give us some time. I need to know you again. I need to understand who you are now… what you are now.”

And it really was a what. The man, the vampire, sat before him, in his arms. The Lelouch he remembered could hardly climb up a hill, but this one had knocked him flat on his back, had just fed on his blood.

Who was he now, exactly? 

For once, Lelouch’s eyes gave no answers. There was something mysterious, dangerous in them, even. Lelouch was a creature of the night, something Suzaku had long ago sworn to destroy, but here he was begging to stay with him. 

But what else was there for him? 

All at once, Lelouch stood up in one swift motion. Suzaku half expected him to leave, to be left in the dust with the knowledge that he’d never known him at all. Instead, though, he stood still.

“If you choose to come with me, I cannot guarantee you will want to stay.”

It was one last effort to keep Suzaku at a distance. Half-hearted, and unable to quite accept being wanted.

And that was it. Of course that was it. Lelouch was still Lelouch, the ridiculous boy who could never fathom how much he meant to Suzaku. Perhaps, instead, it was Suzaku who couldn’t fathom how much he meant to Lelouch. 

Perhaps it was both. 

He got to his own feet, and stared at Lelouch levelly, the only one left dear to him, the unaging creature who had finally extended a hand.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”


End file.
